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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27141572">The Sound Of Silence</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/BuckyAndDanno/pseuds/BuckyAndDanno'>BuckyAndDanno</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Evan Buckley-Severide Fics [7]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>9-1-1 (TV), Chicago Fire, Chicago PD (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Evan and Jay are partners, Evan works Intelligence, Fatherly Voight, HearMeRoar, Hurt No Comfort, I Am An Angst Fiend, Inspired by Sound of Silence by Disturbed, M/M, Major Character Injury, Major character death - Freeform, Severide Bros, Songfic, super sad, why do i do this?</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 21:13:43</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,409</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27141572</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/BuckyAndDanno/pseuds/BuckyAndDanno</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>A raid goes sideways, and three teams lose their heart.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Evan "Buck" Buckley &amp; Hank Voight, Evan "Buck" Buckley &amp; Jay Halstead, Evan "Buck" Buckley &amp; Kelly Severide, Evan "Buck" Buckley/Eddie Diaz</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Evan Buckley-Severide Fics [7]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1929325</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>126</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>The Sound Of Silence</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Soooooo… um, this happened…</p><p>I was listening to Sound of Silence by Disturbed after watching Chicago PD, and my angst monster came to the surface.<br/>This takes place in a similar universe to Goodbye, Hello – wherein Buck left for Chicago after the lawsuit, ended up making amends with Eddie (The two are in a long distance relationship with Eddie looking at moving to Chicago with Chris when his school year has ended), but Buck joined Intelligence instead of 51. Buck is a Severide.</p><p>Disclaimer: I don’t own 9-1-1, Chicago Fire or Chicago PD. I also don’t own Sound of Silence by Disturbed, for which the title comes from and italicised lyrics are used.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The dulcet tones of a cheesy Christmas song wakes Evan Buckley-Severide from his slumber, rolling over in bed to grab for the phone. It’s now February, but with the song having been set by his sort-of-son over the Christmas break and now missing him dearly, Evan didn’t have the heart to change it.</p><p>Raising the phone to his ear, he lets a grin slide onto his lips. “How are my favourite people this morning?”</p><p>Eddie Diaz’s laugh rings back at him, and it makes Evan smile wider. “You know Jay and Kelly are gonna argue with that.”</p><p>Evan rolls his eyes, slipping out from his bed and shucking on a dressing gown before padding into the kitchen. His brother, Kelly Severide, is already there making a pot of coffee. “Okay, my favourite people on the west coast?”</p><p>“I’m just looking out for you.” Eddie replies, still laughing. “Kelly has the squad truck and Jay’s armed.”</p><p>“And I’m not?” Evan laughs in response, though his own service weapon is still in the locked cabinet in his room.</p><p>“Yeah, I’m still pretty scared of Jay after he gave me the ‘big brother’ talk.”</p><p>“I think anyone would be.” Evan replies, bumping shoulders with Kelly and pouring himself a cup of coffee. “He’s definitely the scariest between him and Kelly.”</p><p>Kelly hits his brother with a place mat in response, prompting mock outrage from Evan.</p><p>“Sibling abuse!”</p><p>He shifts to the other side of the kitchen with a grin, nursing his coffee, phone trapped between his ear and shoulder. “Eddie save me!”</p><p>“I’m afraid I can’t fly to Chicago in a nanosecond, babe.” Eddie laughs.</p><p>“Damn.” Evan groans, though still smiling. “And you didn’t answer my question.”</p><p>“We’re good, aren’t we mijo?” Eddie replies, though only half talking to Evan now.</p><p>“Bucky!” The delighted cry of a second voice, one Christopher Diaz, comes through the speaker, and Evan’s smile widens exponentially.</p><p>“Hey Superman! What are you and your Dad doing today?”</p><p>There’s a pause and then Christopher says. “We’re… um… going to Abuela’s.”</p><p>Evan can distinctly hear the rumble of a car engine, the honk of traffic, and the whiz and grumble distinctly familiar with the California highway. A light frown graces his face, but he decides to play along. “Oh, is that so? And what are you going to do?”</p><p>“Um… stuff?”</p><p>He laughs softly. Christopher was never good at lying. “Okay, well enjoy your stuff, and I’ll see you at break, okay buddy?”</p><p>“Okay!”</p><p>Eddie’s voice comes back over the speaker with his own chuckle. “We’re doing something special, aren’t we mijo?”</p><p>“Special?” Evan says with a knowing grin.</p><p>“I mean, there’s a day coming up that’s kind of special but… that’s for us to know – ”</p><p>“- and you to find out!” Christopher finishes with an excited cry.</p><p>“Oh, okay then.” Evan grins. “I suppose I’ll sit here on the edge of my seat then.”</p><p>“I mean, you could.” Eddie replies, and Evan can hear the other man’s grin as he speaks. “Or you could go to work?”</p><p>“Yeah, yeah, I suppose.” Evan finishes his coffee and puts the cup in the dishwasher, squeezing his brother on the shoulder in their silent ‘stay safe’ gesture as he passes. “Talk to you later?”</p><p>“You bet.”</p><p>“Love you.” Evan’s voice is soft and mellow as he slips back into his bedroom. He pulls his black pants and t-shirt from his wardrobe, and denim jacket from the back of the door. Working in Intelligence had been strange at first, without a uniform, but he quickly got used to it.</p><p>Eddie’s voice is just as soft. “Love you too. Stay safe.”</p><p>“Always.”</p><p> </p><p>Evan jogs into the precinct with a smile. He can only imagine that the boys are planning a surprise trip for his birthday next week, and if so, he can’t wait. Slipping his hand onto the palm scanner, he goes up and into the Intelligence office, pep in his step still visible.</p><p>Jay’s the first to notice, grinning as Evan slips down onto his chair, pulling out a bunch of paperwork and case reports. “Someone’s happy.”</p><p>Evan just grins back at his partner. “I think Eddie and Chris are planning a trip up so… yeah, I’m happy.”</p><p>Jay claps him on the arm, squeezing softly. “I’m glad everything’s working out for you partner.”</p><p>“Me too.” Evan replies, a sombreness tinging his tone as he remembers how things were only a year ago.</p><p>Freddie Costas.</p><p>The name that would forever haunt his memory.</p><p>The kid with a vendetta who almost cost him his leg, his life, and did – for a long time – cost him his happiness. What had been his home in LA had quickly become a living hell. Yes, he’d been wrong to sue the department for not allowing him back on blood thinners, but his team – once his family – had been the ones to push him away, to replace him, first. They’d let him down, abandoned him, and he’d done the only thing he thought he had the power to do.</p><p>It only made things worse, and in the end he ran back home to Chicago, to his brother, and it had been the best decision for him to make. Not only had he regained his family at 51, he’d found a new family at CPD also. He’d found another father figure in his boss, Hank Voight, and best friends in Erin Linsday and his partner, Jay Halstead.</p><p>He’d been, for the most part, happy.</p><p>Then Eddie, the man he’d been in love with for so long, had found him, refused to leave his side, done everything to prove he was sorry and that he loved him, and Evan had eventually begun to believe it. Fast forward six months, with Eddie and Christopher preparing to move to Chicago in the summer, and Evan couldn’t be happier.</p><p>It was like the universe was finally on his side.</p><p>The door clangs open as Voight walks in, and from the look on his boss’ face, Evan can tell that it isn’t good news.</p><p>“Second girl was found OD’d this morning.” Voight says, gathering them all round. “Hit on her phone records to Romeo Shapero.”</p><p>“A real lover boy.” Dawson says, placing the photo and details up on the board. “Messages between him and over a hundred girls dating back years, and ties to several smuggling gangs.”</p><p>“We got an address?” Jay asks.</p><p>Voight nods. “You and Severide go undercover as buyers to scope out him and any associates. Then we go in.” His eyes bore straight into the two of them. “You wear vests and you don’t breach the premises until I say so, got it?”</p><p>Affirmatives as they grab their tac vests and check their weapons.</p><p>“Everyone goes home tonight.”</p><p>Maybe it’s those words, that promise, but something tightens in Evan’s gut and he finds himself hanging back while the others exit.</p><p>Voight frowns, walking to his side. “You okay, kid?”</p><p>Evan gives a small smile. “Yeah, pops. Totally.”</p><p> </p><p>The address is a bleak red bricked building in the south of Chicago. Graffiti and other substances spray the walls, paint peeling and bricks smashed and crumbling. A rusted fire escape hangs on one side, blowing in the breeze. Several doors have police tape over them.</p><p>It’s not the sort of neighbourhood they enjoy visiting.</p><p>Decked out in thin black shirts and torn pants, both their tattoos visible, Jay and Evan casually approach the apartment marked 5a. A block down the road, the rest of the team keep an eye on them via hidden cams and audio receivers.</p><p>Evan meets his partner’s eyes, a silent nod, and then Jay is knocking roughly on the door. “Romeo! Hey!” He deepens his voice, gruff and unrecognisable.</p><p>The door opens a fraction, but there’s no face in the crack, no voice; nothing.</p><p>Jay frowns, stepping back a moment to signal Voight.</p><p>Then the door flings open, a shower of bullets spraying out into the open air.</p><p>Evan jerks back and falls, hitting the ground with a dull thud.</p><p>Their cover clearly blown before it even began, Jay shouts into his radio, “Officer down! I repeat, officer down!” as he fires back against their unknown assailants inside the building.</p><p>He’s at Evan’s side in a second, trying to assess the other man as he fires. He can just about hear Voight yelling “Move in! Someone call for ambo!” amidst the gunfire, and then a meaty fist hits the side of his head without warning, nearly knocking him into Evan’s prone body.</p><p>“Miss me, detective?” A reedy voice chuckles, but spots are dancing in front of Jay’s eyes and he can barely see the face that speaks let alone discern the man’s identity. A groan escapes him as he tries to reach for his fallen gun, and then a thick, rough felt bag is thrust over his head.</p><p> </p><p>Voight’s hand grips the edge of the metal console as Jay and Evan get into position, eyes transfixed on the two body cam monitors. Waiting, bated breaths, as Jay knocks, and then – in a split second – all hell breaks loose.</p><p>He watches as Evan falls, still and silent, and hears the cry from Jay through the radio. Heart in his throat, he yells for them to move in, for someone to call for an ambo.</p><p>For the first time in his life, Hank Voight feels fear.</p><p>In moments the rest of the team are at the apartment, and Hank is kneeling next to Evan, pressing pressure bandages to the ragged wound at the man’s neck and cursing everything for sending him in.</p><p>“Stay with me, Evan.” He grinds out, cursing further as the man’s eyes fail to even flutter. He can hear the rest of the team calling clear on the apartment, but all he’s focused on is the thick crimson bubbling beneath his fingers. “Where’s that ambo!”</p><p>The wail of sirens that soon arrive are like a melody of hope, but Evan is still too quiet and too still, and Hank’s heart is beating way too fast for comfort. Then Dawson is at his side, grim faced and pale.</p><p>“Jay’s missing.”</p><p> </p><p>The paramedics are thankfully not Gabby and Shay, and they’re quick to administer trauma aid to Evan and get him into the ambo. Voight is torn between his two people, but Dawson all but insists that he and Erin ride with Evan.</p><p>“He’s your kid.” Dawson says softly. “And you’ll need to call Kelly.”</p><p>The thought makes his stomach tighten further, but he nods. His throat feels tight, barely able to form a coherent thought, but he grinds out “keep me informed” and then he’s in the back of the ambo, Erin in the front. The sirens are blaring, the road outside whizzing by, and all he can do is hold Evan’s hand tight and beg for him to pull through.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Hello darkness my old friend,</em>
</p><p>
  <em>I’ve come to talk with you again,</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>Everything hurts, and he can’t see. The blackness is, in some ways, welcoming though; familiar, in a strange way. He’s not afraid, not after all this time.</p><p>No, he’s simply… sad.</p><p>He knows what’s coming, can feel it running through his bones, and he knows how much it’s going to hurt.</p><p>There’s a tightness at his wrist, a squeeze and a tug, and a voice telling him to hang on, to stay.</p><p>He knows that voice, and though his eyes refuse to open, he manages to part wet, sticky lips – metallic tasting and numb. “I’m s-sorry…”</p><p>“Evan?” Hank’s voice is wet with tears, and it hurts Evan in a completely different way to the pulsating shocks running through his neck and chest.</p><p>“T-Tell them… B-Be…” Everything’s getting fuzzier, and he knows he can’t hold on much longer. “B-Be th-there…”</p><p>“No.” Hank’s voice is strong then, despite the grief that laces every word. “No, you don’t get to do that. You hang on, you hear me kid? You stay here. With us.”</p><p>He tries for a smile. He’s pretty sure it comes out more of a grimace, if it’s there at all. “Tr-try’n.”</p><p>“You don’t try. You do.”</p><p>He knows – remembers every word of advice that has ever passed the man’s lips – and yet his grip on consciousness weakens, and then he’s back under, claimed by the darkness.</p><p>An old friend welcoming him home.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Because a vision softly creeping,</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Left its seeds while I was sleeping,</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>The hospital is too white and too bright.</p><p>As soon as Evan is whisked out of sight through the trauma bay doors, Hank sinks into one of the waiting room chairs, head in his hands. Erin sinks down beside him, a hand on his shoulder.</p><p>“How did it get this bad?” Hank whispers, voice hoarse.</p><p>“He’s strong.” Erin whispers back. “He’ll pull through.”</p><p>Hank might have believed her, were Evan’s words in the ambulance not revolving around in his head on repeat.</p><p>“I need to call Kelly.”</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>And the vision that was planted in my brain,</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Still remains,</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Lieutenant Kelly Severide jumps down from the Squad truck with a grin and a whoop. “Nothing like a high rise rescue to kick off the morning!”</p><p>Vargas grins back at him. “You’re crazy.”</p><p>“Adrenaline junkie.” Cruz laughs.</p><p>“No word of a lie.” Kelly agrees, heading into the break room as his phone begins ringing. He frowns at his phone as he reads the caller ID. “Voight? What’s up?”</p><p>The response he receives, the Sergeant’s voice quiet and broken, leaves him trembling and sick.</p><p>He races out the house without a word.</p><p> </p><p>Arriving at the hospital, breathless and shaking, Kelly quickly spots Erin; the woman’s form small and trembling in one of the hard plastic chairs.</p><p>He races over, red eyes boring into her matching ones. “Wh-What happened?”</p><p>Erin swallows thickly and stands. “He, um… He and Jay… It was a routine play, scouting a drug bust, but… The guy fired… They took Jay.” She tips into Kelly’s arms, hugging him tight as both their tears wet each others shoulders.</p><p>“But, he…” Kelly pulls away after a moment, still trembling, desperately needing some form of reassurance. “He’s gonna be okay, right?”</p><p>Erin squeezes his arm tight. “I hope so.”</p><p>“He’s strong.” Comes Voight’s gruff voice, pulling Kelly into a quick hug and then holding his arms tight, staring him down. “He’s a Severide.”</p><p>Kelly just wonders if it’s enough. Their father was a Severide too, and while they’re infamous for having nine lives, no-one can escape in the end.</p><p>Blinking back tears, he looks back at Voight and simply nods.</p><p>Trust and hope are all he has left.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Within the sound, </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Of silence,</em>
</p><p> </p><p>It takes an hour for Voight’s patience to break. The sergeant has never been good at sitting still, and sat in an all too bleak waiting room – not knowing anything at all – is too much for him. He tells Erin to stay with Kelly, tells them to keep him updated, but he has to do something.</p><p>He has to find Jay.</p><p>The moment he slips back into one of the vehicles that followed them here however, the façade he’d forced himself to wear in front of the elder Severide breaks completely, and he lets out a ragged cry.</p><p>He knows the words Evan was saying, knows a goodbye when he hears one. And for all that he prays that he’s wrong, prays that Evan pulls through and is back annoying Dawson within the month, there’s a deep wrongness in his gut that tells him otherwise.</p><p>So he cries and screams and hits the dash with his fist. Hits the wheel, bashes the horn, thrashes where he sits until he’s bereft of the excess energy given by grief and fear.</p><p>Then, red faced but determined, he drives away.</p><p>He can’t do anything for Evan, but he can damn well find Jay.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>In restless dreams I walked alone,</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Narrow streets of cobblestone,</em>
</p><p>
  <em>‘Neath the halo of a street lamp,</em>
</p><p>
  <em>I turned my collar to the cold and damp,</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Kelly feels completely numb as he sits in the waiting room with Erin, hands gripping each others for dear life.</p><p>Somewhere, deep down, he knows he needs to call Boden, Casey, someone – after all, he left shift without a word – and yet that voice is so small and tiny in comparison to the one that tells him that, right now, somewhere in this hospital, he’s losing his brother.</p><p>“He was fine this morning.” He whispers, almost trance-like, as he remembers the last time he saw Evan. Happy, carefree, laughing. He wishes to god he could just relive that moment again – tell him to take care, tell him not to go to work, tell him… anything, everything, all the things…</p><p>Tell him how much he loves him.</p><p>“I know.” Erin whispers, squeezing his hand tighter. “I know.”</p><p>Maybe it’s remembering the morning, thinking of Evan, but something suddenly kicks his brain into gear and he jerks. “I… I have to call Eddie.”</p><p>It takes him several minutes to force himself up and out of the seat, to stumble towards the entrance and pull his phone out. It takes him several more to actually press the buttons to make the call.</p><p>“Hey Kelly, what’s up?” Eddie’s voice is jovial as he answers, and it sinks Kelly’s heart further into his chest.</p><p>“Eddie…” He can’t keep his emotions out of his voice, quiet and wavering. “It’s Evan… You… You need to get here…”</p><p>There’s silence for a long moment, and then Eddie says. “I’m… We’re already here… We… We were gonna surprise him…” His own voice is suddenly barely a whisper. “How… How bad?”</p><p>Kelly swallows. “You need to get to Med. Now.”</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>When my eyes were stabbed,</em>
</p><p>
  <em>By the flash of a neon light,</em>
</p><p>
  <em>That split the night,</em>
</p><p>
  <em>And touched the sound,</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Of silence.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>“How does it feel, Detective?”</p><p>Jay squints up at him, one eye swollen shut, blood and bruises staining his face.</p><p>“Our roles reversed, knowing you got your partner killed; how does it feel?”</p><p>Acrid breath heats his face, but Jay doesn’t flinch. Criminals lie – they want to see a reaction, want to provoke – and he knows this; Evan was wearing his vest; he <strong>has</strong> to be okay. Instead he grins up at the man, spitting out a glob of blood.</p><p>The man in front of him simply laughs. “Silent treatment, huh? Well, that’s golden but silence… silence also kills.” Then he lands another punch to Jay’s face, spraying more blood on the concrete floor.</p><p>“Feel like talking now?”</p><p>There’s a spark of movement by one of the windows of the warehouse, and Jay just grins. “I’m good.”</p><p>Two doors burst open, Dawson, Olinski, Ruzek and Voight rushing inside with uniformed officers, guns drawn.</p><p>“Hands up now!”</p><p>“Get your hands in the air!”</p><p>Within moments the crew are down on the ground, cuffed, and Jay is free of his bonds; sore and beaten, but not down and certainly not out. Spitting another glob of blood on the ground, Jay parts split lips, blood stained teeth grinning manically down at his captor. “You might wanna choose silence over running your mouth though.”</p><p>Then, adrenaline leaving as quickly as it came and with panic for his partner too great for anything else, he sinks into Dawson’s waiting arm and lifts his gaze to Voight. “Evan?”</p><p>Voight’s silence tells him enough, and his fists clench instinctively. “I’m good.” He grumbles, pushing himself away from Dawson and out to the waiting cars.</p><p>Wherever Evan is, is where he needs to be.</p><p>Nothing else matters.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>And in the naked light I saw,</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Ten thousand people, maybe more,</em>
</p><p>
  <em>People talking without speaking,</em>
</p><p>
  <em>People hearing without listening,</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>Eddie’s eyes dart around the hospital waiting room, seeking out a familiar face, as he enters, hand tight on Christopher’s shoulder. He spots Kelly almost immediately, the elder Severide red faced and restless in one of the hard plastic chairs, foot tapping rhythmically on the tiled floor.</p><p>Beside him sits Erin Lindsay, a woman Eddie has only met once or twice but whom he knows is close to Evan.</p><p>Around them, the entirety of Firehouse 51, and in that moment Eddie knows that Evan is loved beyond anything. He knows that Evan has so much – has everything – to fight for.</p><p>It’s enough for him to walk over. “Kelly?” He croaks, bringing the elder’s head up to meet him.</p><p>“Eddie.” Kelly’s expression shifts slightly, a hint of a smile. “Hey.” He pulls the other man into a quick, but needed, hug. “Still nothing yet.” He murmurs into Eddie’s shoulder, wary of Christopher’s presence beside them both.</p><p>Erin, ever perceptive, throws Eddie a smile and then bends down to Christopher’s height, asking if he wants to come get some snacks for everyone with her.</p><p>Chris, maybe knowing more than he should but maybe also spurred by his dad’s quick smile, nods and trails down the hall with her.</p><p>Eddie lets out a soft breath. “I couldn’t take him anywhere else, but…”</p><p>“Erin’ll look after him.” Kelly says, watching the two go, before turning back to Eddie. “He’s been in close to three hours but… they won’t tell us anything.”</p><p>“What happened?” Eddie asks as they sit back down. He eyes the rest of the room; the grim faced and pale firefighters around them; the other nervous ticks and tapping feet.</p><p>It’s all a waiting game now, and Eddie can only hope to god that they’re winning.</p><p>“Bust gone wrong, she said.” Kelly replies, scrubbing a hand over his face. “But…”</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“The look on Voight’s face… I’ve never seen him so…” Kelly swallows, shaking his head. “So defeated…”</p><p>“He’ll pull through.” Eddie says, determined, and he won’t let him believe anything less. He <strong>can’t </strong>believe anything less. “He… He has to.”</p><p>Whether he can’t bring himself to disagree, or whether he dare not hope, Kelly doesn’t reply.</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>People writing songs,</em>
</p><p>
  <em>That voices never share,</em>
</p><p>
  <em>And no-one dare,</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Disturb the sound,</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Of silence.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>He refuses any sort of treatment, demanding simply that they get to the hospital, and he can tell that Voight wants to argue. He can also tell that Voight wants to be there as much as Jay himself does.</p><p>He’s thankful when the man says nothing, simply helping him into one of the cars and then sliding into the front.</p><p>They squeal away from the warehouse, leaving black tread marks and the smell of burning rubber. Let uniform deal with the paperwork.</p><p>Family comes first.</p><p>The hospital exterior is so bright that they see it before they’re even in the parking lot, but where the building had once felt warm and welcoming, all Jay can think is that it’s too much like the bright lure of death that he recalls only at night.</p><p>He tears his gaze from the building, focusing on the dig of ragged nails into tender palms, the pinch grounding roaming thoughts.</p><p>Short, slow breaths. One moment, two, and then they’re through the doors.</p><p>He stumbles in, battered and bruised but thoughts solely on his partner.</p><p>He sees the extent of 51 there, joined by a handful of CPD officers not yet on the clock, their faces red and empty, shaking hands and tight grips, and his chest aches with the sheer need to still hope and pray.</p><p>The need to be wrong.</p><p>He only needs to see the overturned chairs and the way Kelly and Eddie are clinging onto each other for dear life, and then he just knows, sinking to his knees, lips parted in an unspent scream.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>“Fools” said I, “you do not know,</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Silence like a cancer grows,</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Hear my words that I might teach you,</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Take my arms that I might reach you”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>But my words, like silent raindrops fell,</em>
</p><p>
  <em>And echoed in the wells of silence,</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>Rain pelts the grassy expanse of monument square, swathing the sea of black with a fine, eerie mist.</p><p>Hundreds of people gather to pay their respects, but it’s the front rows that draw eyes and murmurs. Three teams, similar and yet so different, brought together by a shared love and a shared grief.</p><p>Kelly, Casey and Boden are front and centre. The elder Severide is pale and broken, grounded only by the warmth of Casey’s hand on his shoulder.</p><p>Beside them, Eddie, Christopher, and the 118.</p><p>Eddie’s arms are wrapped tightly around his son as the police chief and Chicago mayor speak, but none of it registers in his mind. There’s just a well of silence, a bleakness that has existed from the moment his world was ripped away.</p><p>Bobby – regretting the bad terms that had been ended upon, regretting the whole year before even this moment – grips the fabric of his pants with red knuckles, sobbing openly as his wife tries her best to lend him strength. Her own face is streaked with tears, heart broken from the moment they received that dreaded call.</p><p>The rest of 51 take up the next two rows alongside members of CPD. The Intelligence team are nestled close together in their shared grief, yet Voight’s gaze, unblinking and cold, is fixated on the blown up photograph not ten feet in front of him. He doesn’t register what’s around him, only the repeating thought that he failed, that it’s his fault, that he lost another son…</p><p>Jay is beside him, pale and shaking, still bruised but more bloodied on the inside than anyone could ever see. His gaze too is on the photograph, revolving thoughts of blame and self recrimination.</p><p>He should have done better.</p><p>He shouldn’t have failed.</p><p>He should have known.</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>And the people bowed and prayed,</em>
</p><p>
  <em>To the neon god they made,</em>
</p><p>
  <em>And the sign flashed out its warning,</em>
</p><p>
  <em>And the words that it was forming,</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>The folded flag is brought to Eddie and Christopher, tears staining the fabric immediately, and then they’re brought to the base of monument square and the memorial wall.</p><p>Trembling hands remove a strip of tape, revealing the latest name laid to rest there, and sobs erupt again without warning.</p><p>
  <em>Evan J. Buckley-Severide</em>
</p><p>The dulcet wail of sirens splits the air as several fire trucks and squad cars proceed through the gates and out into the city.</p><p>And when all is said and done, and night falls – when the streets are quiet and hallowed – the city remembers one of its heroes.</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>And the sign said,</em>
</p><p>
  <em>The words of the prophets,</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Are written on the subway walls,</em>
</p><p>
  <em>And tenement halls,</em>
</p><p>
  <em>And whispered,</em>
</p><p>
  <em>In the sound,</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Of silence.</em>
</p>
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